Drabble One-Shots
by FreakingCrazy
Summary: You asked for them... I've got to start writing for other fandoms again.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, they were requested, and they shall be delivered. This is going to be a collection of a few one-shots based off of the Drabbles in my other Smurfs story "Drabbles". This one comes from the first 100 drabbles. More will be added later, and if this isn't how you imagined them going, then I apologize. If you would like to try, go ahead. Seriously, have a party. I hope you enjoy these and have a happy day.**

* * *

 **Based off of Drabble 16. Pain**

The warm light bounced slightly off of the infirmary's walls, the whole building empty, just like every other building, everyone outside playing in the bright sunlight. Well, it was _mostly_ empty.

Dabbler sighed once again as he looked out the window. It had been a rather slow day, which was good and all, but he felt like it was the calm before the storm. Something would happen, if only because something always did. The nice peaceful atmosphere, with a bright shining sky and a light summer breeze, wouldn't last. It never did. Sure enough, something did, and Dabbler nearly jumped a foot in the air when Brainy swung the infirmary door open. He quickly calmed down when he did a swift look over.

Brainy wasn't hurt, -no scratches, no bruises, no blood, no problem- there was no unusual noises from outside, –no screams, no crying, nothing but general chatter and someone screaming at Jokey- which meant that everything was A-Okay. Then why did Brainy look so worried? Did someone steal one of his books or something? Just because he couldn't run to Papa Smurf, that didn't mean Dabbler was the stand in. Dabbler was a doctor, not a-

"Dabbler! Smurf on, this is an emergency!" Dabbler's sleeve was yanked on, and Dabbler himself almost went flying. That wasn't good. Brainy rarely ever got this panicked. Whiny, yes, melodramatic, certainly, but he didn't really ever panic.

"What's the emergency? Is some Smurf injured? Bleeding? Unconscious?" Brainy just shook his head at the inquires and said his next sentence in a hyper, jumbled mess as he dragged Dabbler out the door. Brainy tried to pull him even further, but as soon as he heard the problem, Dabbler held on to the edge of the frame stopping both of them.

"No, no, no! It's Clumsy, he's tripped, and-" Dabbler stopped running abruptly, his feet skidding against the earth, yanking Brainy back in the process. He let out a breath and rolled his eyes. Of all the…

"So? Clumsy always trips, and he always gets right back up. I thought you knew better than to cry smurf like that." Dabbler started to go back inside the infirmary, but he was pulled back once again. Brainy opened his mouth, but he was cut off.

"Yeah Brainy, ah'm fine. My shoulder jest hurts a little." That got his attention. Dabbler head snapped to the left to see that, in the shade and leaning up against a house, Clumsy was there, holding onto his left shoulder. Now Dabbler could panic. Clumsy didn't feel pain, not really. Not enough that he ever felt like he had to speak up about it. It'd been a main source of consternation and confusion for Dabbler for quite a while. Broken bones were like bruises to the Smurf and he barely noticed them, so what on earth had he done to actually feel pain?

"Why didn't you say so?! Smurf him in here, right now!" Brainy grumbled and rolled his eyes in reply, but nonetheless dragged Clumsy in, the klutzy Smurf protesting the whole way.

"I've been trying to do that the whole time!" Brainy huffed as Clumsy sat down on one of the beds. Dabbler quickly rifled through his medical bag, looking for the right tools. How many bandages would he need? Would he actually need the hacksaw? How bad was it really? Did he even want to find out?

No. But it was his job and his duty, so Dabbler turned around with the filled bag in his hand, preparing himself for the worst. He still wasn't anywhere near prepared enough for what he saw next.

It was in a sickly state, that was certain. By now, Clumsy's attempts to cover up the wound were starting to fail, and Dabbler could already see a not-so-small trickle of the crimson blood run down his brother's arm, increasing in strength and speed by the second.

"Clumsy let me see it." Clumsy shook his head and tried to use both hands to cover it up, rather stubborn about the whole thing. Brainy seemed like he was going to be sick, his face turning a rather interesting shade of green already. Dabbler himself wasn't feeling too well. "Please. I need to take a good look at it. You wouldn't want something like that to get infected, would you?"

Clumsy sighed in defeat and he retracted both of his hands, letting them both dangle limply at his sides. Dabbler could feel the burning bile rising in his throat and almost choked to keep it back. That was bad. Incredibly bad. No, so bad that there wasn't even a word for how bad it was, but if there had been, then even that wouldn't do it justice.

Now, he was the village doctor. Accidents happened in the village, it was a fact of life. He'd seen plenty, even if some of the more serious ones had required help from Papa Smurf. Dabbler'd dealt with broken bones, sprained limbs, strained muscles, violent illnesses, and a variety of other things. He should've been used to it by now, right?

Wrong.

That didn't change the fact that this wound was serious, didn't make it any less painful to look at or worrying.

Dabbler cursed the fact that he knew no magic. He cursed the fact that his knowledge of potions, even healing ones, was extremely limited. He'd been meaning to learn for quite a while, smurf himself more useful.

"W-where did this happen? H-how?" The wound seemed to dig deeper than any wound should, allowing a good deal of torn muscle tissue and bare bone to be seen. Dabbler looked away quickly, not wanting to see any more than he already had. He still hadn't seen too many open wounds before, not ones that bad, and he was more than willing to admit it. Dabbler practically dove for some bandages and some preserved herbal remedy, mind buzzing with any and all possible treatments.

"At the bridge. It didn' even hurt at first, but then I tried to move it and it just started to sting like crazy. Ah'm sure I'll be fine in a little, really." Clumsy was being rather relaxed about the whole thing, and it did nothing to ease Dabbler's worries or panic. A simple stumble caused _that_? Dear Smurf, Clumsy was lucky to live more than a day if his falls were always like that.

How many of these types of injuries had he had before, had he ignored? You didn't build up a tolerance for that kind of pain without having to go _through_ pain first.

"And this just had to smurf when Papa Smurf leaves for the day to visit Homnibus. Perfect." Dabbler gave a rather weak chuckle as he tried to apply some of the medicine, only to fail when Clumsy practically jumped backwards instantaneously at the contact.

There was only so many times Dabbler could smurf that something was not good.

"That hurts!" Clumsy cried, and he tried to cover the wound back up with his hands, wincing as he brought up the left one. Dabbler's concern shot up even higher. So not only was it bad enough that he'd spoken about it at one point with Brainy, but it was bad enough that he felt the need to smurf out. By this point Brainy was trying to comfort and convince his best friend to sit still, all without actually looking at the wound on Clumsy's left shoulder.

"Clumsy, Clumsy, Clumsy, it's going to hurt. Medicine that hurts is good for you, naturally. It's like how when something Smurfs awful, you know it must have been good for you. After all…." Brainy started another one of his rambling lectures, which seemed to put Clumsy at ease. If it'd been anyone else who'd been hurt, Brainy would've been thrown out. His lectures tended to grate on Dabbler's nerves as well as that of his patients. However, the situation was very different where Clumsy was concerned.

In fact, Dabbler was willing to bet that Clumsy was calmer then than he'd been in the past fifteen minutes. Clumsy's hands drooped slightly as his friend continued to prattle on, and Dabbler quickly took advantage of the situation while he could. He more or less slapped the bandages and the medicine together, and then wrapped up Clumsy's shoulder faster than most would think was possible while Clumsy was still distracted. This didn't exactly go unnoticed.

"Yow!" Clumsy jumped again, and Dabbler could feel a pang of sympathy for his brother. That would hurt and sting for quite a while, but it would hopefully prevent infection from occurring while allowing for the wound to heal. When he tried to face Clumsy, Clumsy turned away and instead started talking to Brainy. Though Dabbler couldn't see much, he could see the tears welling up in Clumsy's eyes as a result of the medicine's sting. He felt guilty, but it was the only thing he could do that could almost guarantee safe and steady healing. Curse Papa Smurf and his ill-timed trips! Curse Dabbler and his mediocre skills, his limited knowledge!

He should've been a better doctor that this, should've known how to do it without making others feel pain first.

Why was it that whenever the leader left the village, something awful happened? Why were they so dependent upon him that every time he left, they fell apart? Clumsy was whispering more than talking, and his usually cheerful voice sounded rough and it was pretty much spiked with discomfort. Why was it that being a doctor meant that Dabbler often had to put others in so much pain?

Far too many questions and nowhere near enough answers, something they were all unfortunately used to.

"Clumsy…" Said Smurf just turned away more, and Dabbler resisted the urge to smash his head into a wall repeatedly. "Please, look at me." Clumsy, at first, didn't seem to have heard him, but after a few moments he did as was asked, thank Mother Nature.

"I didn't want to do that, I don't like hurting people, I really don't like hurting you, but you have to understand that my other two choices were to let your wound get infected and smurf you sick or physically restrain you until Papa Smurf gets back. Believe me, neither option was appealing to think about." Dabbler took in a shaky breath and continued "The bandages will come off later when Papa Smurf returns, and then he can, with any luck, heal it. He has more knowledge than I do when it comes to these types of injuries, mostly because I've never dealt with them and he unfortunately has."

Brainy opened his mouth to speak, but Dabbler cut him off with a glare. _No_ , Brainy was not going to try to heal Clumsy's injury, because by now everybody knew what kind of disasters Brainy could create without assistance from someone who actually did know what they were doing. That wasn't even considering the chaos he created _with_ the guidance of an expert.

One the other hand, he _did_ know magic… Dabbler shook his head, more to himself than at Brainy's idea. It was still too much of a risk.

"The first thing I suggest is just resting in your house until he does get back, or maybe helping the Smurflings look after Baby Smurf. They're supposed to be at their house, and I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you played with them a bit." It didn't seem to convince Clumsy entirely, so Dabbler added "Of course, Brainy could go along with you, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind trying to teach them a lesson or two. Besides," Dabbler lowered his voice and whispered to Clumsy "Someone needs to make sure he doesn't lecture them to death. Or anyone else for that matter; I've had enough excitement for when it comes to injuries today to last me for at least a week."

That was all the encouragement Clumsy needed, and he was soon out the door. Brainy didn't need any encouragement to follow him, and the duo headed over to the Smurflings, leaving a worried Dabbler behind them. Dabbler realized he should have probably made it clear that Clumsy was careful, but he believed that would Brainy be enough of a worrywart for the both of them. Maybe then they would just be able to sit tight until Papa Smurf returned. Hopefully.

* * *

Never mind. Dabbler had just finished putting away his instruments, the hacksaw that he had yet to ever use being last, when the door was rapidly knocked and beat on. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Sassette had been the one to come get him, as there had apparently been an accident with Clumsy. She was practically babbling, though, so Dabbler didn't manage to get much. He wrenched the door open to the Smurflings' clubhouse, glad he'd picked up his medical bag before he bolted. Baby was wailing up a storm, while Brainy seemed to be trying to keep a very pale and shaky Clumsy steady, and the three remaining Smurflings seemed to be either trying to calm Baby down or also helping Clumsy smurf up.

The Smurflings' house, being placed where it was, was not completely away from the village hustle and bustle. Therefore, the sight of a panicking Sassette and a quick paced Dabbler in Doctor Smurf attire was bound to garner some attention. It did, and a few Smurfs had gathered before the two even entered the building. They were let in without being stopped, but the concerned Smurfs only seemed to get more worried as time went on. Dabbler didn't like crowds, small as that one was. He never had, and, at this rate, never would.

Sassette set down the medical bag, right next to the bottom of one of the bunk beds where Brainy had helped a pale and shaky Clumsy lie down on.

"How long ago did he start smurfing like this?" Both Nat and Brainy sat down next to Clumsy, while the other three sat down on the floor, Sassette trying to rock Baby back to sleep.

"Only a few minutes ago. Before that he seemed to be smurfing more or less fine." Natural had always had a thing about caring for injured creatures, even if they'd tried to hurt him. That seemed to have stayed with Nat, much to his delight. The fact that this was Clumsy, a very kind brother of theirs, probably made him all the more worried.

Where Natural Smurf would have stood aside, however, Nat the Smurfling stood firm, eyes looking up at Dabbler from underneath his straw-hat.

Dabbler was hit again with just how different they were now.

He missed Natural, he really did.

Dabbler tried to smurf off the thoughts as he smurfed on dealing with Clumsy's condition.

The wound had only gotten worse, and he definitely had a fever now.

Just then, someone knocked on the door, causing everyone inside the mushroom to freeze. Dabbler cautiously walked over to the door, glowering. He grumbled as he swung the door open, foot already tapping.

"If this is who I smurf it is, Reporter, I swear, I'll…" Dabbler let his threat vanish half way through as he realized who the visitors at the door were. Handy, Hefty, and Smurfette all stood there, each looking rather concerned.

Must've been a slow day for all of them too.

"What happened, Dabbler? I know you don't like making house smurfs." Smurfette asked, her head tilted slightly. She was biting her lip, her eyes wide.

If he told them or not wasn't really Dabbler's decision to make. This "story" was Clumsy's to tell, not Dabbler's.

"One moment, please." He closed the door quietly, turning to the other inhabitants of the room. "Clumsy?" The poor smurf raised his head slightly.

"If you don't want to answer, you don't have to. Just a shake or a nod of the head'll do." Clumsy nodded. "Okay, Smurfette, Handy, and Hefty are all outside, and they would like to know what happened. I doubt they'll bother or harass you, but if you don't want them to smurf in, they are _not_ going to come in."

Clumsy nodded again, and gave a shaky thumbs up. Nat and Brainy seemed to create a barrier just by sitting on opposite sides of Clumsy's bed. And, who knew if they didn't? Brainy could smurf magic, even if his demonstrations weren't usually all too good or well preformed. After everything that had already happened, Dabbler honestly wouldn't have been surprised if Nat had done so as well. He turned around, and reopened the door, allowing the waiting Smurfs in.

They obviously weren't expecting Clumsy to be the patient.

"Clumsy smurfed his shoulder after he tripped at the bridge, so obviously I went an-" Brainy shut his mouth as soon as he was glared at.

The day just kept getting stranger and stranger.

Clumsy was feeling pain, none of the nosier Smurfs had yet to smurf in –Smurfette didn't count-, and now Brainy was voluntarily shutting up.

If the sun decided it just wasn't getting up tomorrow too, now would be a good time to know. Dabbler cracked a smile, even if it wasn't the sanest and even if the time wasn't best. Oh yeah, he was losing it.

The two Smurf and Smurfette walked over to Clumsy, each smurfing something encouraging to the ill Smurf.

The door was knocked on yet _again_ , and slowly creaked open.

Dabbler tried not to scowl, but it was hard to do considering who it was peeking in. He _knew_ it'd been too good to be true.

"Dabbler, would you mind if I smurfed in for a-" Dabbler smurfed the door on Reporter's face, end of his rope reached. He didn't need to deal with this, certainly didn't _want_ to.

Smurfette smurfed something about wanting to talk to him, which he absently nodded to. Clumsy was gently lifted off the bed and moved to the infirmary, thankfully with no problems. He'd have to thank Hefty and Handy again later. The Smurflings let too, trying to help as well as deciding to smurf somewhere less crowded, taking Baby with them as they did. Dabbler packed up the bag and was just about to walk out the door when the last person in the house spoke.

"Dabbler?" Smurfette tapped her foot. Right, she'd wanted to talk. Dabbler tried to fight of the drowsiness that kept trying to cling to him. He'd talk to her quickly and _then_ actually get another look at Clumsy's injury, as well as get some paperwork done.

* * *

Smurfette wasn't happy. She was normally a very happy person, but right now… He'd done _something_ to offend.

The two of them were alone now, Dabbler knowing just by the way she was smurfing that he wasn't going to like this.

"I'd like to talk to you about Reporter." He nodded again, neck feeling stiff.

"You're too hard on him, Dabbler." Even though she smurfed to be trying to be nice about it, her gaze was far from soft. "You always jump to conclusions when it comes to him."

Dabbler stared at her, mouth open but no words coming out. _He_ was the one who jumped to conclusions? About _Reporter_? Something felt more than just a little backwards about that.

"When was the last time Reporter smurfed you about a patient?" Dabbler fidgeted and absently put the clipboard under his arm, trying to keep the grimace off his face. It wasn't a pleasant memory.

There'd been a good deal of throwing up from a sick Nosey that day, and Reporter's snooping had resulted in him being thrown out and permanently barred from the infirmary, allowed in only if he himself was sick or harmed. Since then Reporter had yet to make it in, and Dabbler would like to keep it that way.

"Two years ago." Smurfette had her arms crossed, her brows smurfed up. She looked an odd combination of disappointed and worried, a look he was far more used to seeing on Papa Smurf. She pulled it off uncannily well. "Only because he hasn't been allowed to smurf his nose in since."

"Dabbler, don't you think there could be another reason he'd want to smurf in?" Her stare was boring into him now, making him want to twitch, to move, to do _something_. "What if his friends were hurt or sick?"

It was very tempting for him to say "What friends?", but he knew that'd be just a bit _too_ cruel. Besides, one of the only reasons Smurfette was probably smurfing this in the first place was because she'd been a friend of Reporter's for quite a while now.

Reporter had plenty of fair-weather friends, but being a sneak like he was, Dabbler thought he really couldn't have expected more.

To be fair, he did seem to have a few that stuck around. He and Nosey were pretty much peas in a pod, for obvious reasons, and there were Smurfs like Smurfette and Vanity that seemed to enjoy his company.

"Smurfette, please, you can't really expect me to smurf like he actually cares-" Dabbler's mouth clamped shut, but it was too late. The damage was done.

What in the world could he say to smurf that back?

"Dabbler, just because you're a doctor, that doesn't mean you always know what's best for your patients." He felt another stab when he saw her eyes smurfing with tears. "You're not just Doctor Smurf, stop trying to smurf like it."

Smurfette slammed the door on her way out, windows rattling afterwards. She was stronger than she looked.

He scratched the back of his head after she left, finally letting out a sigh. His eyes were now smurfed to where Smurfette had been.

Her heart was too big, just like his was too small.

* * *

Clumsy's head was swimming, but that was okay. He'd be alright soon; he knew he was in good hands. Dabbler'd patch him right up, and then he'd be right as rain. All they needed was some time and it'd be good.

Was he worried? Naw, they were just overreacting a bit. Maybe it hurt, but that was okay. And maybe he hadn't smurfed anything that had hurt like this since he was a Smurfling, but that was okay too. And if Brainy and Dabbler smurfed a bit panicked, looked a bit too pale when they smurfed his tiny cut…

Maybe he was a little worried. Just a bit.

But he knew he was oversmurfing it. He was snug in one of the infirmary beds now, Brainy sitting next to him and talking about something. Clumsy couldn't tell exactly what he was saying, but that was alright. He'd ask later. Maybe he was talking to Nat, because Nat had decided to smurf by too. Nat was a good Smurf, he always had been. No, he was a good Smurfling. He was a Smurfling now, wasn't he? That'd smurfed a year or two ago, hadn't it? Sure had.

Well, he was a good Smurfling. So was Slouchy, he was nice. Sassette and Snappy were too- Aw, heck, all four of 'em were kind Smurflings. But Nat was being very thoughtful right now, getting Brainy's mind off of him and onto other topics like he was.

Brainy liked him too. Had smurfed before that he wasn't far off from being some kind of prodigy. The two of them got along swell, and that was great.

The two of them were also still talking, which was even better.

The sound of Brainy's voice was very nice, familiar. Clumsy liked that it was familiar, liked that he knew exactly where Brainy was going to pause and how he was going to smurf certain words. It gave him something to smurf on to.

That really helped, especially when everything else seemed to get kind of wonky.

He shouldn't have gone and bothered them. He fell down all the time; he knew how to get back up on his own. It was nice to smurf cared for, though.

He let out a small yawn as he let the darkness slowly pull him down.

Yeah, he'd be fine… Just fine.

* * *

His medicine, his little patchwork cure, hadn't worked. Clumsy's wound had gotten infected because it hadn't been cleaned well enough. Dabbler had smurfed it up again.

What a surprise.

Dabbler started writing, trying to be quiet as he did. Clumsy was currently asleep, snoring peacefully in one of the beds, and he didn't want to wake him up.

Still, he'd like to write up a report. Maybe if he wrote it down it would make some sense, somehow. Most of the accidents involving Clumsy tended to run together, but this one stood out.

Unfortunately, his mind was overflowing, and it wanted to wander. So wander it did.

There'd been a good deal of skepticism at first, especially since he'd quit only to get back on it a while later. Sure, it would be great if Papa Smurf didn't have to deal with every injury and issue, but was Dabbler really the right sort for the job?

" _You're not just Doctor Smurf, stop trying to smurf like it._ "

His fingers gripped the quill tighter as he paused in his writing.

" _You're not just Doctor Smurf, stop it._ "

All you had to do was smurf his name. Oh, they'd loved to remind him of that. Even if he'd had lots of support, there'd been plenty of doubts, both whispered behind his back and said right to his face. There was a reason everyone still called him Dabbler, why no one smurfed his new name.

" _You're not Doctor Smurf._ "

Then there were his skills. Rather, his apparent lack thereof. He hadn't even been able to successfully clear the wound, keep it from getting infected. If he had, perhaps Clumsy wouldn't have smurfed so bad.

Clumsy would most likely have gotten ill anyway, you didn't smurf sick that quickly from infection, but the wound hadn't been properly washed and dressed, and that hadn't helped in the slightest.

Who was Dabbler to say he was any better at it than the rest of them?

It wasn't as if he had over a century of practice to back him up. He had less than decade, was that far behind and that slow. He couldn't even claim to be a jack of all trades, even if he'd tried it all. For almost a hundred and fifty years, he'd been more of a master of none.

So he could put a few bandages on someone, big whoop. Hadn't he been fooled right when he'd started, tricked by some paint?

Now, Dabbler wasn't going to go and smurf that he was jealous of his siblings, but he _was_ jealous of them. Most of them, at least. No, he couldn't really be jealous of poor Sickly or Scaredy, both of which he had to smurf regularly for various problems.

Not that it was impossible to get beyond the barrier their names provided, but it wasn't easy. Somedays it felt like fighting an uphill battle with no end in sight.

Dabbler couldn't just sit and wallow in his own dark, albeit true, thoughts. This was no time for a pity party.

… Besides, if he dwelled in them for too long, he smurfed that he'd get sucked in. Good doctor or not, good brother or not, good _person_ or not, he had a job to do.

Poorly or not, he'd do it.

* * *

Nightfall finally decided to grace the forest, and with it came Papa Smurf's return. It was only then when Brainy and Nat decided they could finally clear out. He entered the infirmary with what seemed to be a look of mixed confusion and worry.

"Dabbler, why was I told that Clumsy needed to come to me for some injury? As soon as I arrived, I was told that it was serious and that you were unable to smurf it, and that the injury's effects have been rather bad as well. I was hoping you could tell me exactly what happened. Brainy tried, but Hefty *ahem* took care of the situation when Brainy started to rant." Dabbler sighed, put down another sheet full of medical equations and issues, and turned towards his father, weary from what he would later remember as far more than just another hectic day.

"There was an… incident near the bridge, and I was not prepared for dealing with the resulting wound. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ask if you could teach me how to make certain medicines that can help heal those wounds faster, if you can ever find the time." The leader nodded, and turned to Clumsy, who was still asleep. After gently unwrapping the bandages that covered the wound, he quietly muttered some sort of spell that seemed to do the trick. The skin slowly knit itself together, Clumsy completely unaware of what was going on. His next words were almost as quiet. "You did fine, Dabbler, just fine."

Dabbler tried not to wince at the comment.

 _Just_ fine. He should've been able to do more.

Before Papa Smurf could leave, he was stopped by Dabbler speaking up again. Dabbler tried not to smile. He was owed this. He'd earned himself at least a joke today.

"One more thing. Papa Smurf, the next time I smurf like I'm getting bored, stop me before something exciting _does_ happen. Also, I'd like to ask if you know of some way to keep Clumsy from smurfing, or if we could possibly saw his legs off to keep him from smurfing himself and others harm." The look on Papa Smurf's face made everything that had happened worthwhile, and Dabbler only barely managed to stifle his somewhat hysterical laughter until Papa Smurf left.

 **I don't know why I like to make happy, sound characters internal wrecks. I guess it's because there are so few people in real life who are really happy on the inside.**

 **They may smile, may nod their head when asked if they're okay, but… They're not. They may not even know it, but they're _really_ not.**

 **I'm sorry. I'll slink away now.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Based off of Drabble 23. Crutch**

There's no shame in being weak, unless the only thing you're good at is being strong.

Hefty knew it was important to take care of himself, but he could do that without bothering anybody else. He'd been getting good practice, whether he wanted to or not. Today smurfed to be trying to put it to the test.

He'd gone for a run earlier, one that was longer than most of his normal runs, and had ended up being chased by Azrael. In the end he'd smurfed away in one piece, that cat never learned, but when the rush wore off it didn't get much better.

Hefty glared down at the offending leg from where he was sitting on his bed. He had planned on exercising with his weights around now, but he couldn't do that from where he was sitting. His weights were all put away on the wall, almost exactly across from him. Hefty tried to smurf his weight onto his leg, only to hiss when his brain started screaming at him to stop. The next few tries didn't go any better.

That was odd.

It normally didn't hurt like this; it usually just ached and splayed when it shouldn't have. For the past year, it'd been wrong. His walk had been funny at first, and then he'd had to constantly make sure it didn't show. He didn't have to think about it as much now, but...

It was _frustrating_. His body had enough ways of telling him he when he'd had enough, when he had to slow down and take it easy for a while, his foot didn't need to smurf in on the act. And how badly his walk was off seemed almost random, not really depending on if he smurfed too much or not or even on how he was feeling. He could be as sick as a dog and it would be unnoticeable, or he could be completely healthy and his leg would twist all day. What could he do about that? Nothing. Then there was the fact that just _standing_ on it right now hurt.

It also meant that he was weak, and he couldn't stand that. Hefty wasn't frail, he couldn't be, but that's what his traitor of a leg kept trying to tell everyone.

It wasn't like Hefty'd gotten into this state from a recent scuffle or a jab. If he had, maybe it wouldn't have been so maddening. But, no, he'd gotten it from a little trick that he'd screwed up. A _trick_.

Maybe he cared too much about what others thought. So what, they weren't him. Right?

Wrong.

They were his family, of course what they smurfed mattered. Maybe not to the point where he'd think twice about what some gossips would say, but he did care.

If they wouldn't let him protect them, if Papa Smurf or one of his brothers refused, if they thought he was too weak, incompetent at smurfing it… Someone could get hurt. They smurfed up against someone every other week, whether they wanted to or not. Someone _would_ get hurt.

Not like he was always going to be there to stop it, not in a million years, but he could try.

He would always try.

Because if he wasn't there to try, if somebody got hurt because he wasn't there to take the blow…

Hefty wasn't risking it.

There were some things he would never be able to stop, like Clumsy tripping, but he always got up fine. Serious accidents were far and few between, and it would be best if they could keep it that way.

Not that he was gonna go and act like that was all because of him, because he knew smurfing well it wasn't. But he did his bit.

Hefty just hoped it was enough.

* * *

The birds outside were still singing their songs, even though it was already midday. Hefty opted out of lunch, though not because he was too busy helping someone like he should've been.

Now, he knew he wasn't weak. He trained and worked out and did his best to stay as strong as he could. Incidents happened. And when they did, they never seemed to go away.

It'd been bad enough that he'd broken his leg doing a simple little stunt, one he'd thought he could do with no problem. Yeah, he'd been wrong again.

Tuffy was still ragging on him for that, a whole smurfing year later, and it was more than enough as it was.

If he found out that Hefty's leg was still smurfing now, that the break had screwed it up that much, he'd be worse than a caffeinated Nosey.

Tuffy meant well, mostly, and he wanted to help and protect too, but he also had one smurf of an ego. If you gave him just a bit, even if you didn't think it was anything, he'd take that as a sign that he could just walk all over you.

Somedays, it felt like that was how almost everyone worked.

It was like Hefty was walking a tightrope, and he couldn't fall unless he wanted to land in a fiery pit. If he fell, he'd never get back up. If he fell, they'd never let him try again. It was more or less a fact, the threat that was constantly hanging over his head even when things seemed peaceful. If they thought he was weak, they'd smurf that he couldn't handle as much as he actually could. One bit of weakness was all it would take now; he'd surely used up all of his chances.

Hefty wasn't their best defense, not by a long shot, but he could definitely smurf more with just his hands than most. Most of them couldn't defend themselves with magic either.

He'd never hold it against them; they had their own skills and smarts. It wasn't like he was an idiot either, but compared to Handy or Smurfette, he wasn't exactly ahead.

Some found that hard to smurf, that he _wasn't_ a moron, no matter what he did.

It was one of the main reasons he couldn't smurf Brainy.

Brainy always talked down to him, like he was talking to a child. He talked like that to the others sometimes too, but with them he usually tried to act like he was appealing to their better nature.

Hefty?

Brainy treated him like he was too stupid to understand simple things. Brainy liked to treat him as if he were a mindless tool that he could use. Brainy _had_ used him like a tool before.

Like _Brainy_ knew more. All he could do was parrot back drivel, and he could never do it when it would actually be helpful.

So Hefty couldn't do all the complex calculations he could. So what? That didn't make him stupid. It didn't mean he wasn't as observant or clever as the rest.

He wasn't just dumb muscle.

You didn't spend time around Handy and _not_ pick up a thing or two. He'd learned secondhand and firsthand what tools would be good for what job, how he could smurf. Not that Hefty was anything compared to Handy, and he'd never be able to actively compete against him in that field, but he did know what he was talking about when it smurfed to at least the basics.

So what if he couldn't smurf the "simpler" equations as well as some of the others? So what if reading always gave him a pounding headache? There was a lot more to being smart than just reciting some formula or something out of a book.

A guy could be smart by knowing where his limits were and how to deal with them, knowing how to smurf with other people, knowing how to dodge and throw a punch without making a mistake, knowing where to hit and how hard.

Hefty had the last one down pat.

The rest… Well, he had time to work on them. But he _was_ good at things other than just hitting people. He was. Maybe not very good, but it was something.

He clung to that like a drowning Smurf.

* * *

Hefty couldn't smurf it when his mind roamed. Exercising usually kept it grounded, but since he couldn't… It brought up things he'd rather not think about. It dragged up ideas and memories that were shoved down for good reason.

Then there'd been the time he'd been smurfed by a flea carrying a little something that made certain parts of him, like the bit of common sense he had, shut down.

It hadn't been that he'd wanted to hurt them or anything. He'd never, no magic would ever change that, he'd rather die. Even when he got a bit violent, say he'd had enough of Brainy, he still made sure there'd be no real damage. Brainy always landed somewhere safe, and he had yet to get anything worse than a headache and a few bruises. Hefty didn't hurt any of his family if he could help it.

Hefty had understood completely why he'd had to leave when he'd been infected, because he'd been a danger. He hadn't tried to go back, didn't try to hunt anyone down.

He just- hadn't cared about them, about anything. The main thoughts running through his head at the time had pretty much been "What's the point?". They were all gonna die anyway, caught or worse by someone or other, why the smurf was Hefty bothering to get attached?

Then he'd been snapped out of it later, and he'd wondered how close he'd come to getting himself killed. They'd been just fine without him, while he hadn't.

The problem, and it was definitely a problem, was that he felt like he depended on them more than they ever could on him. Without them, what did he have? He'd been empty, and he'd smurfed like there wasn't anything left. And he'd been right. Without them, there wasn't.

There was a lot that he owed them, a lot that he'd never be able to smurf back.

For a minute, the thoughts left Hefty alone as he busied himself by thinking about what he could smurf tomorrow. He tried planning out the chores he could help with, the routines he should try again, a few stretches that could help...

Then his mind dug further, latched itself onto the darkest moments he could remember.

There was dim light, murmured talking, a can of paint. Sneakiness that'd come very easily, been as simple as breathing.

Purple. _Purple_. Hefty hated that color. Hated it. And not without good cause. Smurf, the things that had happened…

It'd been more than five years ago, why was it still smurfing him?

 _He bites down hard, only thinking of biting and running and biting again_.

Blue paint shouldn't have worked, but it had. It had worked far too well.

 _They don't know where he is, when he's right amongst them. He can't talk to them or even really understand much of what they say, but that's alright since no one tries to talk to him in their panic._

He'd attacked them then. Hefty hadn't cared, hadn't been able to think of anything but attacking.

 _Then they try to attack his kind. Well, he'll fix that. He strikes again and again, over and over._

It'd been so easy, and they hadn't been expecting it. Why would they?

 _He ends up being bitten himself by one of the stupider ones, frustratingly enough. It really doesn't matter, though, since all the blue ones keep falling, try as they might to stay. Their time's over now._

Hefty'd hurt them, and he'd rather be dead than hurt them. He was supposed to protect his family, not try to wipe them out. Magic hadn't had to force him; he'd easily been tricked by a virus. What was to say it wouldn't happen again?

He had brothers, two sisters, and a father who trusted him. It would be so easy to fling that trust right back in their faces and strike them down.

Nope, not dealing with this. Not today, not ever. He was _not_.

Hefty pretty much leapt off the bed, even if it wasn't the smartest thing to do. Impact hadn't been fun, that was for sure. He slowly made his way over to his equipment, mentally trying to block off each and every thought. He started exercising, ignoring the way his body screeched again.

Hefty knew it'd be best to just relax and not push his body and further, but he felt like he was going stir-crazy. His brain was trying to drive him insane. How much worse could it get?

* * *

A lot, actually. He may as well have been on fire; his leg was pretty much burning. Why in the smurf had he gone and done that again?

Images and words popped up into his mind, words that he despised and images he feared.

Because he didn't want his mind to keep drifting, right. Still didn't want it to, so he could smurf through some more pain. No pain, no gain.

Hefty bit back a string of choice words about said "gain" as he found himself hitting the ground, nearly on top of the very weights he'd just been lifting. His body had apparently decided to stop the exercising for him. He grimaced as he checked his leg. His ankle had given out this time, and it felt more than just a little sore. Getting up off the floor was going to be more of a challenge than it had any right to be, and Hefty knew his leg wasn't going to like it. _He_ wasn't going to like it.

It wasn't like he could just stay on the floor, though. He had to get off his rear and back on his feet, even if one of them wasn't cooperating. Hefty placed his hand on the wall, trying not to feel embarrassed as he shakily used it to push himself back up. There wasn't anyone around to see him fall flat on his face and then struggle to stand, thank Father Time for small favors.

He froze mid-action when the door was knocked. Never mind, then. Hefty turned slowly to answer the door, only for his thrice-cursed ankle to give out on him yet again and yank him off balance. He managed to steady himself up against the wall before he could hit the ground again, now glaring at his foot. He had dropped one of the weights he had been lifting, and it had landed right in the middle of it, making it even more throbbing than it had been before.

"Who's there?" Hefty called out to the door, trying to keep his curses quiet. It was proving to be difficult, his leg pretty much trying to drag him down to the ground.

"Hey Hefty, it's me." It was Handy, sounding as chipper as ever. At least he'd had a good day. "It's time for dinner! Are you coming?"

How'd he miss the dinner bell? Normally it was loud enough that he could hear it from the other side of the village…

It didn't matter.

Hefty grumbled in response, quickly moving the weight from his foot. Did he want to go to dinner? Honestly? No.

But his best friend was waiting for him, so…

"Yeah, yeah. Smurf your horses." He used the wall to keep him up as he moved to the door. Hefty tried to steel himself before he opened it. A little pain wasn't going to kill him, and he needed to smurf out of this.

* * *

At least Hefty'd finally gotten good enough at hiding it. So why did he feel like he was being watched?

Hefty looked around as casually as he could, but he didn't smurf anyone. He smiled to himself as he finally calmed down and actually ate something. He was just being paranoid, it was all alright, it was fine.

He didn't want to worry anyone.

* * *

Hefty was going to be the death of him, Handy thought as he carefully watched over the fire. It would serve him right if Handy just let him smurf in his pain. But enough was enough, and he should've done this months ago. He _should've_ had this as one of his top priorities, but there'd just been so much that he'd wanted to do recently, and it kept being "next" and for "later".

One more thing became two more things, and two new ideas became four, and it just kept going until his idea had gotten pushed further and further back down the line of designs.

Handy ended up smurfing that a lot. Sometimes it felt like he had more ideas than he could ever know what to do with.

Handy carefully picked it up, eyes scanning the project. Hefty wouldn't want anything complex, which made his job easier.

Sometimes he just got a bit too lost inside his own head, surrounded by all the possibilities and all the things he could fix and create. Sometimes, he got a bit carried away.

Then again, it wasn't exactly easy trying to help someone who didn't want to be helped. Not that he really ever expected Hefty to complain about it, but he could've –and should've- seen _someone_ by now, anyone. Now that Dabbler'd smurfed back to being a doctor, and he'd insisted that it was for good this time, Hefty had even less of a reason not to have it looked at. He should've, he was smarter than that. Handy had thought about telling someone for Hefty, because it seemed he'd never do it himself, but that wasn't something he could do. Hefty's problems weren't his to spill.

For the last few months, Handy had even thought that maybe Hefty had had it healed, but it'd been obvious tonight that he hadn't.

Hefty was stubborn like that. Insanely stubborn in a way that was both admirable and more than slightly maddening, in a way that could just make him want to smurf his teeth out-

Alright, so they were both to blame. Hefty should have smurfed someone, and Handy should've been more on the ball. No problem; he was going to fix this not-so-little issue _now_.

He smiled down at his gift, his hands making sure that it all smurfed as seamlessly as it could.

* * *

It was night, he was drifting off to sleep, and his leg wasn't feeling much better. Hopefully it'd be good by tomorrow, but Hefty wasn't counting on it.

The door was knocked again, and Hefty had to argue with himself about whether or not it was worth getting out of bed. Normally he would've just jumped out of bed, but now his leg was both aching and hurting. Couldn't whoever it was wait 'til morning?

Hefty sighed and sat up, quietly lighting a candle before he tried to stand.

No, no, he couldn't make 'em wait. Couldn't go and get lazy just because it hurt a little more.

That didn't stop his grumblings as he trudged, because he sure wasn't limping, not a bit, to the door. To top off the _great_ day he'd been having, on his way to the door he tripped over one of his weights that'd been left on the floor. The candle he'd been carrying also fell, but thankfully didn't smurf anything on fire. Then the person who was outside heard him and spoke up. It didn't take more than a word for Hefty to realize who was at the door and why he couldn't smurf back now.

"Are you okay in there?" Hefty grimaced as he hauled himself off the floor. He didn't like to keep Handy waiting, but if turned out that Handy wanted help with a project at this hour, he was gonna have to say no.

Hefty hadn't been much help today, though. He was owing his best friend quite a lot by now.

"'m fine." He'd make it up to him somehow tomorrow. He'd find a way, help him with some of those more bizarre projects, maybe.

Hefty opened the door and let Handy in. Under the handysmurf's arm was some sort of bundle, but he couldn't tell what it was in the dark. It was thrust into his hands and Handy grinned at him in the candlelight.

The last time something like this had happened, Handy had wanted to show him a prototype that he'd spent days on.

Hefty curiously peeled away the paper, confused when he got to something made of metal and wood. What was it, and why had Handy brought it to him?

Then he saw it and his brain shut down.

"You-You-" His mouth wasn't working. "But I- I thought- How?"

"You were limping again, at dinner." _Again_. He'd seen him do it before. He knew- Of course he'd smurfed it. Handy was brilliant, even on the days when it seemed like he wasn't all there. What _didn't_ he know? Hefty was smurfed out of the thoughts when Handy patted him on the back. "You've gotten pretty good at hiding it."

"Not good enough." Hefty chuckled, turning the crutch over. Not a single thing looked wrong or out of place, it seemed perfect. Handy certainly didn't do anything by halves.

So it was just like all of his other projects.

The other projects that Hefty remembered smurfing that Handy couldn't wait to start on, couldn't wait to work the kinks out of.

"I actually didn't smurf you with it for a while- I thought maybe it'd smurfed away, that you'd gone and had finally told somebody else and gotten some help." So if he'd hid it just a bit better, Handy wouldn't have had to do this- Hefty was getting glared at. He felt like he'd been here before. This was the part where he got chewed out for being an idiot. "You could've told me, it's not a big deal."

His stare got sterner by the second, Handy's arms now crossed.

"Wasn't something I wanted to bother you with." That smurfed to work. Handy's scowl lost its bite and he sighed as his shoulders slumped.

"I know." Handy looked at him and gave a tired smile. "That doesn't mean you can't. Some of us don't mind being bothered."

Hefty couldn't help but grin, even when he should've smurfed that Handy take it back. He couldn't have done that, though, not when he knew Handy had so many other things he could have worked on instead.

Handy wasn't making him go see anyone about it, even if he'd muttered about it, and had found his own way to help that he could _choose_ to use or not. He wasn't being forced to take any kind of medicine, wasn't being publicly smurfed. Handy wasn't the gossiping type, he probably hadn't told anybody else.

The crutch seemed sturdy, felt good, looked simple.

Hefty'd never use it outside of his house, maybe not even in it –Hefty tried not to wince as another stab of pain went through his leg. Alright, he'd definitely be smurfing it in here- but Handy seemed to know that.

Hefty had one of the best brothers he could ever ask for.

 **I tend to bring up conflict that I probably shouldn't based on these guys' names, but… Think about it. Their entire purpose is defined by one word, which has its own set of mental issue-inducing details from the get-go, but can you imagine what it would be like to deal with something like a funk concerning their jobs?**

 **Not only would they feel bad enough about not being able to do it, but they'd have their name hanging above their heads the whole time. It seems like there would be a lot of spoken and unspoken expectations attached. I'm not saying that they've all got to have issues thanks to their names or anything, but I can definitely think of more than a few that would probably have at least a little trouble.**


End file.
